


Plain Sailing Weather

by rosyrotten



Series: Cat's Eye 'Verse [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyrotten/pseuds/rosyrotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The good feeling she'd had at beginning of school year was all but gone and now, standing in the epicentre of the carnage, she was wondering why it was so darn hard balancing good grades, basketball practice and a girlfriend. All while trying to avoid being eaten by the alien she accidentally brought back from outer space. Such was the life of Spider-Woman, she guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome back to the second instalment of the Cats Eye Universe! If you haven't, you might wanna check out Heart Crimes (first in the series) as our plot picks up only a few months later. 
> 
> Thanks always to Meekins (tumblr user maryjanewatson) for listening to me whinge every day about writing, Cloudy (misterquire) for overall inspiration and Lauren (a-frozen-world) for reading the first story without knowing who the fuck any of the characters were. 
> 
> Follow my writing blog, dickingrayson.tumblr.com for chapter updates! 
> 
> Title from the Frank Turner song of the same name.

She switched her iPod to radio and leapt off the roof.

“Goooooood morning, New York! It’s another beautiful day, probably one of the last as this blistering summer finally comes to an end. An eastbound traffic jam is easing as the Queensboro bridge has been reopened at last, but the streets are still packed with kids heading back for the first day of semester.”

Mary Jane let out a whoop as she tumbled through the air, catching herself on a web-line to swing over the mentioned traffic. The sun was peering over the top of the buildings, rising and falling in Mary Jane’s arcs of flight. At the zenith of a swing, she let go and time slowed, as it always seemed to do. She floated, out of reach of the rest of world, til gravity touched her again. The sky released her from its embrace and she dropped.

She pedalled her legs during a particularly low sweep, pulling her feet up away from the cars.

“Hello, pedestrians!” she called, hauling herself up and away again, smiling at people calling her name as she moved off again. Well, _Spider-Woman_ ’s name, but, that was her name too really, wasn’t it?

She landed in a crouch on the corner of a building, taking a moment to admire her home city. Glass gleamed and the familiar smells of coffee and car fumes filtered up even to her perch. Mary Jane grinned, feeling the mask moving tautly across her cheeks. Reaching for the sky, she stretched out her spine smoothly, before rolling her shoulders and diving again.

Yes, she was Spider-Woman, beloved (and sometimes behated) hometown hero of New York City and today she was feeling uncommonly optimistic. Especially when she was already running late for her first day at school as junior at Midtown High. Finally, she was going to be able to spend time with her girlfriend, _out_ of costume. Not that they had been in costume _together_ much lately. And Gwen would be back from her ridiculously elite summer scholarship program in London and Peter… Mary Jane didn’t really know about Peter, but Felicia seemed to like him well enough and that was good enough for her. School restarting meant basketball tryouts and theatre productions and probably even more detentions for tardiness than the year before.

Mary Jane landed on the roof of the building next to Midtown High, sliding from the fire stairs and ducking behind a dumpster to speed-change into her outfit for the day, pulling her backpack and iPod free of the webbing that had kept them secure. She jogged the rest of the block to school, slipping through the front gates as the final bell rang.

Even dodging through the students dawdling on their way to class, Mary Jane couldn’t stop the smile spread across her face. She practically bounced from her locker to her classroom, stopped by the door almost closing in her face. Her homeroom teacher appraised her with a raised eyebrow, door handle still in hand.

“Late on the first day, Mary Jane?”

“No, Miss Bertinelli, just wanted to make sure everyone else got to their classrooms safe and sound,” she grinned. A smile flickered across her teacher’s face as she held the door open for Mary Jane to duck inside and wind through the desks to take a seat.

The helmet at the bottom of her bag made a distinct clunk noise as it hit the ground, but no one else seemed to notice.

“Welcome back, juniors, to another year,” Miss Bertinelli, famous in the school for speech-making if not full blown lecturing, started up as Mary Jane settled into her chair. From a few rows in front of her and to the left, Felicia Hardy looked at her over her shoulder and mouthed ‘hi’.

Mary Jane beamed back; she had a good feeling about this year.

✽

“I just thought working in legal firm would be way more interesting that it actually is,” Felicia complained around the straw of a juice box. “Mostly they just make stupid law jokes and when there’s actually a client, I don’t get to _go_ anywhere.”

“Aw,” Mary Jane reached across the cafeteria table to pat Felicia’s hand, “I’m sorry your receptionist job isn’t as exciting as your superhero photographer job.”

Felicia rolled her eyes, clearly not appreciative of Mary Jane’s sarcastic comforting.

“So, is it true, he’s, yaknow?” Peter piped up, taking an immediate bite of chicken salad sandwich, eyes fixed on Felicia curiously.

“What?”

Peter swallowed quickly, hands waving in excitement. “Oh c’mon, there was that big rumour last year that Murdock was Daredevil.”

Felicia snorted with laughter. “ _No. Way._ ” She took another long noisy sip of juice, shaking her head. “Dude, he’s _blind_. He walked into the fridge three times the other day trying to make coffee. It wasn’t even funny the third time, I just jumped up and made it for him.”

“Besides,” Mary Jane cut in, “Mr Murdock is super nice and Daredevil is _creepy_.”

“Daredevil isn’t creepy,” Peter insisted, “he’s just… dark… and mysterious.”

Felicia and Mary Jane shared a silent look. Their opinion wasn’t helped by an incident several weeks ago when Daredevil had caught Spider-Woman and Black Cat making out on a church roof in his territory. Though, Mary Jane supposed, he had been rather polite when asking them to leave.

“Who’s creepy?” Gwen said as she dropped her tray onto the table and slid in next to Mary Jane. Mary Jane smiled in delight and they shared a quick hug, giggling.

“Daredevil,” Felicia answered finally.

“Oh, totally,” Gwen agreed, neatly tearing into the packaging on her salad. “I don’t like any of those masks where you can’t see their eyes.”

“They do have identities to keep secret, Gwen,” Peter pointed out. He pulled off the rest of the crust around his sandwich and ate it first. _Strange boy_ , Mary Jane thought idly.

“What about Spider-Woman?” Felicia piped up. Mary Jane nudged her under the table with her foot in warning, but Felicia’s smile just twitched.

“Well,” Gwen started hesitantly, “that’s not fair. I like Spider-Woman.”

“Me too,” Felicia said firmly, sitting back on the bench looking satisfied. Mary Jane looked away, hoping no one noticed the blush staining her cheeks and focused on eating her apple.

✽

Mary Jane pulled away long enough to curl her hand more firmly around the back of Felicia’s neck, before tugging the other girl back into the kiss. She pressed her thumb along the vertebrae she found there and Felicia hummed into her mouth. Felicia pressed forwards with her hips, sucking Mary Jane’s bottom lip between hers, until Mary Jane bumped into the locker behind her with a ringing clang. Mary Jane giggled and Felicia moved back, fixing her with an unimpressed stare.

“You know, if we just told our friends we were going out, we wouldn’t have to hide in the change rooms,” she groused, leaning forwards to bury her face in Mary Jane’s neck.

“But,” Mary Jane said, tilting her head and feeling like she’d had this argument a thousand times before, “people have already made the romantic connection between Black Cat and Spider-Woman, it’s too much coincidence—”

“Who the hell is paying attention?” Felicia growled, fed up and nipping at the skin of Mary Jane’s neck. Mary Jane gasped, and directed the other girl’s head to look into her eyes.

_It’s dangerous,_ she wanted to say. _I don’t want to see you get hurt._ She remembered, viscerally, the feel of Felicia sobbing in her arms when she rescued her off the bridge. Felicia, with no powers, no training and now, no gear to speak of, charged into that situation head first, the way she does everything and Mary Jane was the one thing that kept her plummeting to her death. She could never tell Felicia she felt responsible for her, but it’s undeniable. _And ridiculous_ , she acknowledged.

“I just don’t want to ruin a good thing,” Mary Jane said weakly, braving a smile. Felicia hesitated, then returned her expression brightly.

“And I just wanna share our _good thing_ ,” Felicia wheedled, but ducked in for a kiss, signifying the end of the conversation. Mary Jane, more than grateful for the change of tack, deepened the kiss eagerly, tucking a hand into the back of Felicia’s jeans as Felicia slid her hands up under Mary Jane’s shirt. She leaned back with a laugh, indicating at the Spider-Woman uniform hidden under her clothes. Mary Jane smiled and shrugged and reached forward for another kiss, but Felicia leant further away.

“ _And,_ ” Felicia started back on some conversation or another, frowning again, “I’m still annoyed I’m not invited to this Fantastic Four thing.”

“Aw, it’s only because,” Mary Jane swallowed the rest of her answer. _Because Black Cat had been inactive pretty much all summer_. But they’re not talking about that. It seemed to Mary Jane that the number of things _not_ being talked about was starting to outnumber the number of things actually being discussed. And the number of secret change room make outs happening at any given time.

“I met them first,” Felicia whinged, “it’s not fair.”

“Well, you did jump out their car mid-air without so much as a how-do-you-do.’ Mary Jane ran a soothing hand down the back of Felicia’s hair, pulling her into a hug. While Felicia was right, Mary Jane had been there side-by-side with the Fantastic Four during (yet another) invasion of Mole Man and the Moloids ( _good band name,_ Mary Jane thought) amongst several other occurrences of the bizarre and hostile. Not to mention the nasty off-world thing, which was yet another thing they weren’t talking about. Or rather, Mary Jane wasn’t talking about.

Felicia, meanwhile, had been at work, hopefully, making up the income she’d lost from her previously more lucrative, but less legal profession.

“I know, I know. At least you’re still going, though,” Mary Jane cooed, trying to mollify her girlfriend. Instead, she got muffled grumbles in response. A moment later and another stifled noise of frustration, Felicia raised her head.

“Whatever,” she said decisively, clearly over the matter. “You’re still coming over before, right?”

✽

Mary Jane was lacing up her shoes as Flash fell onto the bench next to her. She looked up at him, surprised, through the veil of her hair. Somehow, winning last year’s tournament (by default, unfortunately, after the disrupted match) had earned Flash’s good standing enough for their relationship to evolve from difficult  and competitive acquaintances to possibly, actually friends.

“Hopeless, all of them,” Flash grumbled, leaning back on his arms. He eyed the group of sweaty, panting boys on the other side of the gymnasium with disdain. “How’s your lot looking?”

Mary Jane hummed thoughtfully, admiring the hopefuls milling around for the women’s basketball team. There were double the numbers of last year, mostly freshmen with a sophomore or two, all stretching ineffectually while the rest of the members of the team jogged around the court. Her gaze drifted naturally across the court to the freshly installed hoop and the patch-up job down on the wall. She shuddered with the memory of the Lizard tearing through the concrete like crêpe paper, inhuman roar echoing through the halls. For a moment, Mary Jane felt that awful buzz in the back of her head and instinctively reached to rub her neck. It passed as quickly as it came.

“Inexperienced and unfit,” Mary Jane said wryly, sitting up to tie her hair back. “I’m sure we can sweat that out of them.” She smiled at Flash brightly, determinedly optimistic. Flash grunted, unimpressed. They watched as the team began running the newbies through a series of warm up drills, high clear voices calling out instructions.

“Does Gwen have a boyfriend?” Flash said suddenly. When Mary Jane looked around, Flash was looking the other way. His cool appearance was undermined by the faint blush, unrelated to his recent work out. Mary Jane smiled slyly.

“This is a development,” Mary Jane teased with a trill in her voice. “What happened to Liz?”

“Nothing happened to Liz,” Flash said quickly, still not looking her way, “I’m asking for, for a friend.”

Mary Jane made a slow noise of scepticism. “She did mention she met a boy in London, oh, what was his name?” She tapped her feet on linoleum, thoughtfully. Flash glanced around at her without a word and shrugged unhelpfully. “Anyway, she’s all focused on school work and her job with Oscorp.”

Flash snorted, folding forwards onto his knees, seemingly deflating. “Can you believe that? After all that,” he paused to make a monster face and noise, “horrible Lizard business.”

Mary Jane shook her head empathetically to indicate that she couldn’t. She closed her eyes, stomach flipping as she remembered the Lizard leaping towards her on the bridge. Mary Jane jerked backwards, eyes snapping open with a gasp. Flash eyed her strangely.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, standing quickly, stretching her arms above her head, “bad memories.”

He staggered up slowly and placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, “I’m fine.”

“It, it was pretty scary for all of us, MJ,” Flash struggled to get out, “we can, um, talk about it.”

“I’m fine,” Mary Jane forced another smile out. “Really, Flash. But thank you.”

He smiled back hesitantly as Mary Jane patted him on the arm.

“Right,” she resorted to a command voice, “I better go assess the recruits.”

“Give ‘em hell, Cap’n,” Flash mock-saluted her with a grin. She saluted back as she jogged across the gymnasium.

✽

< _?_ >

< _All clear._ > came the response, moments later. Mary Jane dropped neatly from the roof, onto the fire stairs and wrenched open the window, flowing inside. The whole process took a matter of seconds, body moving on automatic.

“Hi, Mrs Hardy,” Mary Jane called out, careful not to get her boots on Felicia’s bed, instead wriggling to the edge of the bed where a welcome mat lay on the floor for this express purpose.

“Mary Jane,” a voice rang through the small apartment, already scolding, “what have I told you about the front door?”

“Um,” Mary Jane pulled off her mask, ponytail catching in the helmet and wincing, “use it?”

“Yes! I’ll ban you from the house, see if I don’t.” Mary Jane smiled, hoping her girlfriend’s mother was seriously joking. She made a note to come by more conventional means next time, just in case.

She stepped into the living room, shutting Felicia’s door behind to find them both in the living room. Warm, orange light from a lamp diffused through the room, the images on muted television flickering on mostly bare walls. Felicia was sitting on the edge of the couch, focused on the phone in her lap as her mother straightened her hair with a flat iron.

“Hi,” Mary Jane said quietly, ducking her head to drop a kiss to Felicia’s cheek, who didn’t look up, but smiled. The expression was weak and Mary Jane’s heart dropped. Something in the kitchen pinged and Mrs Hardy passed the hot tongs to Mary Jane.

“Would you mind?” she trailed off already flitting from the room.

“Not a problem,” Mary Jane brushed her fingers through Felicia’s long, pale hair, picking up where her previous stylist had left off and clamping the iron around a thin section of hair. “I’ll try not to burn it all off,” she joked, but Felicia just huffed, hardly amused, in response.

She worked in silence, unsure what to say to this tense, quiet girl. Internally, she wanted to laugh. Spider-Woman wielding a hair straightener in this otherwise peaceful, domestic scene.

“I don’t want to be useless,” Felicia said after a long moment. Mary Jane realised she was watching the news on the screen. The Avengers were battling some sort of intergalactic terrorist; they had been ultimately successful, but it had been a near thing.

“You’re not useless,” Mary Jane insisted, feeling like they were treading familiar, yet unsteady ground, “you’re a her—”

“I am,” Felicia cut in. Over her shoulder, Mary Jane could see her hands curling into fists against her jeans. “I have no powers, no gear, no training. I haven’t been out in over a month!” Mary Jane felt a sick sense of déjà vu, the words all too familiar with her own thoughts.

“We’ll figure something out with the Fantastic Four.” Mary Jane glanced over her shoulder to see if her daughter’s raised voice had caught Mrs Hardy’s attention. It was no secret that her mother was glad Felicia was home almost every night (except date night, obviously) each week.

“The Fantastic Four have you and they couldn’t give a single crap about me!” If she didn’t have to keep still because of the flat iron, Mary Jane was sure Felicia would be up and pacing, if not bouncing, around the room in frustration. Mary Jane released a taut breath, unaware it’d been held up in her lungs.

“I need,” Felicia started, paused, and continued, “I need to get back to the Tinkerer and get some equipm—”

“Felicia, no!” Mary Jane put down the straightener with a bang, picked it up to switch it off properly and placed it down again more gently. “You _promised_ you wouldn’t go back to that—”

Felicia whirled around, hair floating, still hot, around her face. Her eyes blazed, expression dark. “You think I would go back on that promise?” she hissed.

“We both know what the Tinkerer would want in exchange,” Mary Jane argued. More than anger, she recognised the anxious feeling of desperation welling up inside her. Before she could say anything else, Felicia broke, face crumpling and eyes becoming damp.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do anymore,” her voice cracked on the last word and Mary Jane vaulted the couch to pull her into a hug. Felicia tilted her head up and Mary Jane caught her lips in a fierce kiss, thumbs almost bruising against the other girl’s cheekbones where she held onto her.

“We’ll figure this out, I swear,” Mary Jane muttered, foreheads resting against each other, “but we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” Felicia said in a small voice. She pulled back and fanned her face to rid it of the red blotches that had risen. “How does my hair look?”

“Perfect. I like it straight,” Mary Jane said. Then she grinned. “Ready to go mess it up in a sunset swing across town?”

Felicia matched her smile. It looked shallow to Mary Jane, the kind of forced joy that came from the adrenaline after crying. But it was a start. And Mary Jane _was_ optimistic about this year.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Peter Parker felt completely out of place. Which was odd, because apart from his own home and school, he spent the most of his leisure time at the Baxter Building. Though, admittedly a lot of that time he was either attached to his camera or his boyfriend Johnny Storm. Winding aimlessly through the crowd of scientists, financial bigwigs and reporters, without either of those things, Peter felt almost invisible. It was strange to think that half the paparazzi in the room had chased him and Johnny-in-a-disguise down the street to uncover the identity of the Human Torch’s ‘mysterious new boyfriend’. But now that he was here in a nice pair of jeans and button-up shirt no one had given him a second glance. He certainly hadn’t been invited to be in any of the _official_ photos.

He nabbed a glass of orange juice off the refreshments table and squeezed his way to the edge of the crowd. Peter scanned the room, eyes automatically picking up on his boyfriend, in shiny blue uniform, surrounded by a group of women, at least five years older than him, laughing at his every word. He rolled his eyes. _Oh, to flirt with fame._

Peter frowned immediately at spike of _meanness_ in his mental tone, not entirely apologetic for it though.

Taking a sip, he shifted his gaze to find Felicia and Spider-Woman goofing off on the other side of the room. Spider-Woman had somehow stolen Felicia’s camera away from her and was attempting to take selfies of the both of them while twisting out of the way of Felicia’s reaching hands. After a particularly high angled shot, Felicia doubled over in laughter, face scrunched up un-self-consciously. Even as Peter smiled at the sight, Spider-Woman captured the moment on film.

_It’s good_ , Peter thought, _that someone makes her laugh the way she deserves_. To his eyes, Felicia hadn’t been happy since the new school year had started. In the corridors at school and on the job, she’d seemed haunted and distracted. Despite considering himself one of her few friends, he hadn’t plucked up the courage to tackle the issue; it seemed like there was more than enough going on in her life. Still, the way she laughed with Spider-Woman reminded him of the way she smiled with Mary Jane and that was at least two people—

Or—

He didn’t get to finish processing the thought as all 170 pounds of Johnny Storm barrelled into him from the side.

“Hi, you made it!” Johnny beamed in his face even as Peter struggled to regain his breath after the thorough winding. Johnny’s arm snuck around his lower back, pulling them into an unmistakeably more-than-platonic embrace.

“We’re in public,” Peter warned even as he leaned into the touch. A thought in the back of his mind wondered if he’d ever get used to the kind of warmth Johnny exuded.

“No one’s looking.”

“That woman is,” Peter argued, gesturing with his chin over Johnny’s shoulder. Even when the blond flicked a look her way, and did, in fact, find her watching, he did not seem deterred.

“Fine,” Johnny said, slotting his palm into Peter’s arm and marching off with him. Peter tripped momentarily, desperately trying to stay upright.

✽

Peter laughed against Johnny’s lips even as Johnny did his best to crush their mouths together more intensely. His back hit the corridor wall with a thump and Johnny pulled back to rearrange them both comfortably and bracket his arms around Peter. He dived back into kissing like Peter was the last source of oxygen in the observable universe. Not that Peter minded, really. In fact, he really rather liked the kissing, for the most part, it was the stuff that lurked in the dark world of _sex things_ beyond that that didn’t work for him.

_It must be nice to be a normal teenage boy like Johnny_ , Peter thought, hands skimming up the back of Johnny’s uniform. Internally, he made a face and pulled himself up quickly. No, you really couldn’t consider ‘normal’ and ‘Johnny’ in the same sentence. He ignored the implications of considering himself _abnormal_ in this situation as well.

Peter didn’t realise until Johnny leaned away that he’d stopped kissing or moving entirely. He blinked as Johnny frowned, face still only inches away. “You in there, somewhere?”

“Do you think it’s weird that I’m here?” Peter asked suddenly. “I don’t mean this corridor—”

“No,” Johnny interrupted, drawing the word out long, collapsing forwards onto his boyfriend’s shoulder, “you know I hate this stuff. It’s so _boring_.” It went unsaid that Peter’s presence here made the situation somewhat less dire. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

Peter hummed non-committedly. It was easier to let Johnny think what he wanted than explain the fiercely fast track of his thoughts. Johnny frowned momentarily, and then smiled warmly. The unguarded nature of his expression knocked Peter’s heart straight out his chest and probably out of the park.

“I’m glad you’re here, nerd,” Johnny muttered, cheeks faintly colouring.

“Who you calling a nerd, dork?” Peter retorted, cut off as Johnny decided it was time to go back to smothering him with kisses. It took a moment, but he relaxed under Johnny’s hands, sinking back against the wall, thoughts wandering off again.

“I’ve been doing college applications,” Johnny said suddenly, jolting Peter back to reality.

“Huh?” he replied intelligently, hands wandering along his boyfriend’s shoulders, while he caught up from the kissing to the thinking parts of his brain. “How’s that going?”

“Horribly, don’t do it.”

Peter’s brain ran a marathon of thoughts, his fingers ticking off vertebrae of Johnny’s neck as he went. He catalogued the inch of black regrowth under his bleached-blond curls, the crease between his eyebrows and the shockingly vivid blue smudges on the dark skin under his eyes. But it was the tightness of his mouth that told Peter that it wouldn’t matter if he asked ‘why it was so awful’ or ‘where to’; the part of Johnny Storm that had momentarily opened himself up had already been tucked behind iron gates once more.

“Don’t apply for college or don’t go?”

“Both,” Johnny shrugged, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “just, like, become a chemistry teacher.”

“I’m pretty sure you still have to go to college for that,” Peter replied wryly with an arched eyebrow.

“Huh.” Johnny looked genuinely surprised at that. “Never would have guessed.”

✽

Jealousy wasn’t quite the right word for the kind of longing Peter felt, watching Johnny and Spider-Woman being buddies for the official photos. This was the part of Johnny’s life he’d never have an all-access pass to. Not that he was interested in any way shape or form of being a superhero. The benefits did not seem to outweigh the shocking drop in life expectancy.

Still, as Spider-Woman threw her arm around the Human Torch’s shoulder and Johnny’s arm crept around her waist to hold her still for a photo, Peter felt an unfamiliar pang of envy. He was too busy watching the two of them throw back their heads in laughter to notice Felicia winding her out of the crowd towards him. He smiled last minute as she affectionately rolled her eyes.

“Can you believe these two?” she joked, letting go of her camera to dangle around her neck. Peter laughed, oddly uneasy.

“They’d make a good couple,” Felicia mused, a far-away look in her eyes, staring distantly at the stage of heroes. She shook her head, looking sheepish and added quickly, “sorry, that was stupid.”

Peter shrugged. It wasn’t unlike what he’d been thinking anyway and besides, Felicia appeared just as heartbroken by the suggestion. He let the silence lie as the press carolled the team and Spider-Woman into a few proper photos as Felicia fidgeted with her camera.

“Get some good shots?” Peter asked, leaning closer to get a look at the screen.

Felicia sighed. “I’m really not the girl for this job,” she said and laughed, flicking quickly through photos.

“Group shots are tricky,” Peter consoled, pointing when she passed by probably the best one of the lot, “come round after school, I could give you a couple of pointers.”

“Ooh la la, Mr Parker,” Felicia winked as he rolled his eyes, blush creeping up his cheeks and fading just as fast.

“You could drop in on Mary Jane while you’re in the neighbourhood.” Despite being next door neighbours, Peter and Mary Jane had only really taken advantage of the fact to travel home from school together once or twice after being properly introduced following the whole _Lizard incident_.

“Well,” she replied with overdramatic sigh, “I did pick my only two friends for convenience,” she looked up at Peter and grinned, eyes flashing, “it makes your addresses easier to remember.”

Peter opened his mouth to retort when Reed cleared his throat, his head rising a little over the crowd to address everyone in the room. “Ladies and gentleman, if we can move right along to the presentation section with the evening.” He directed, with an extended arm, the attention of all gathered to a glass cylinder, filled with liquid, rising from the floor. It was three times the arm width of Peter, rose all the way to the ceiling and appeared to be empty.

There was a collective gasp from the room as something bubbled in the bottom of the tube, before a black ink blot grew in the liquid. It moved like oil, smooth and never still around the perimeter of the case in a way not unlike a shark. Peter unconsciously took a step forwards.

“In conjunction with the Avengers, the Fantastic Four is proud to present a symbiote native to an alien world encountered one month ago. The first of its kind here on Earth, we believe that study of the natural properties of this symbiote will provide great advances for human medical science.”

Reed’s voice dropped to a murmur in Peter’s mind as he realised he was pressed up close to the glass. The black wisp, which had been swimming in lazy circles, paused on the other side, shifting on the spot. Suddenly, it formed a spherical kind of head which rolled back to reveal two gleaming white eyes.

Peter registered, from somewhere behind him, Felicia’s “gross”, but he was transfixed. Eventually the symbiote seemed to focus its gaze elsewhere, moving away to examine the rest of the room almost reluctantly. Peter allowed Felicia to pull him back, by the elbow, allowing other people to get up close and personal. He blinked away the white light of a flash going off near his face, meaning to return his attention to Reed’s lecture.

Instead, he noticed Spider-Woman, her body tensing as she turned towards the wall of floor-to-ceiling glass windows that framed the end of the window. He followed her gaze just in time to see half of them explode inwards, even as Spider-Woman called out in warning. Smoke and shrieks filled the room almost instantaneously. Through the haze, he witnessed the heroes on stage leaping into action, either towards the direction of danger or hustling the civilians out.

“Get out,” Felicia yelled in his ear, grabbing at his shoulders, as another explosion rocked the room. Peter fell to his knees awkwardly, ears ringing and coughing. He turned, but he’d lost Felicia already. Standing made him dizzy and someone was screaming, or laughing, it was hard to tell. Touching his stinging head, Peter’s hand came away bloody.

He yelled wordlessly, flinching as more glass shattered around him. He was on the floor suddenly, body aching and leg feeling hopelessly twisted. Peter looked up, and the last thing he saw before blacking out where the impassive white eyes of the pitch symbiote and its gaping maw.

✽

_He was in space. Dark silk extended in every direction, lit up by distant pinpricks of light. He was moving through space, body rippling inhumanly to propel himself forward._

That’s strange, _he thought._ How am I breathing? _He inhaled deeply, feeling his whole body expand outwards like a balloon. It was dizzying, so he stopped breathing._

I need to hold on to something, _he tumbled forwards, the lower half of his body rolling over his head til he was folded in half, feet somewhere near his face. It didn’t hurt. From his position, he noticed he was a mile or two above a planet. It wasn’t Earth, but appeared to be mostly covered in metallic buildings; dome-like and connected to each other by tunnels. Everywhere was populated with dense thickets of trees. With a thought, he dropped._

Where is this? _he thought, hitting the building and spreading out to take the brunt of the blow. Instinctively, he slithered along the outer wall, finding a crack to worm his way inside. Machines beeped and lights glowed and there were voices in the distance. For a moment, he thought he saw a familiar face, but then it was gone._

Oh, _he remembered, finding somewhere safe and warm,_ this is home.

✽

Someone was calling his name. He groaned and opened his eyes to a blurry image of Felicia’s face. She looked concerned, a little worse for wear, clothes and hair ever so slightly singed in places. Then he remembered what had happened. Peter sat up quickly.

“Careful,” Felicia warm, arm curling around his shoulders, “you bumped your head and were out cold.”

Peter took in the room. There was glass everywhere, the wall partially crumbled and the Thing was stomping out a spot fire in the corner. The containment tube with the symbiote had been shattered and the sticky liquid had seeped out across the floor.

With a sick lurch of his stomach, Peter recalled the angle he leg had been up. Against his will, he looked down, only to find his legs stretching out normally in front of him. His jeans had been ripped wide open in places, but when he wriggled toes nothing felt broken, just a little sore.

“Here,” Felicia reached a hand for him, standing, “let’s go get cleaned up. Blood all over your face is disappointingly not a good look on you.”

Peter took her hand and heaved himself up. They navigated around broken bits of wall and hard-working superheroes. The Invisible Woman looked their way, concerned, but was entirely focused on holding a great tangle of pipes in place while Mr Fantastic speedily fixed them back together. Which reminded him,

“Where’s Johnny?” Peter croaked, scanning the room. Felicia’s brow knitted into a frown.

“He and Spider-Woman went after the creature that attacked us.”

The wall to the men’s room had been partially knocked over; the door non-existent. Felicia paused awkwardly on the threshold, but followed Peter in. _Probably to make sure I don’t collapse again_ , Peter thought, suddenly angry at his own weakness. Felicia clearly hadn’t passed out and his own boyfriend had leaped into action immediately.

_Just a civilian_ , Peter remind himself, turning the taps on full blast and splashing his face til the water ran clear. He examined his countenance in the mirror, but the cut her found was almost totally closed. _Well_ , _head wounds do bleed a lot_ , Peter explained to himself.

“Creature?” he asked, cupping his hands to drink water from the tap. Felicia caught his gaze in the mirror.

“It wasn’t human,” she crossed her arms protectively in front of herself, “and it made this horrible _noise_.”

Felicia shuddered, then seemed to gather her wits again. “Dr Richards thinks it came specifically to steal the alien thing.”

“The symbiote,” Peter corrected, drying his face on his sleeve and leaning against the sink. “But who knew about it?” Felicia shrugged, looking nervous again.

“Um,” she started, stepping close to drop her voice, “I haven’t shown anyone else, but I got a picture.”

Peter leaned forward as she raised the camera. The photo was unfocused and dust clogged the scene, but Peter could make out a green blob, thick scaled legs attached to a carapace and in another part of the photo, thick yellow claws. Felicia was right; but more than a creature, it was monster. She pressed forward and the next photo was the symbiote, half crawling out of the broken tube, shaped into eight long legs, eyes large and luminous. Peter’s heart hammered in his chest.

“It’s not the—”

“No,” Felicia quickly cut in, sure of herself, “Kurt Connors is still in custody.”

“You’re going to show the Fantastic Four these, right?” Peter pulled his eyes away, forcing himself not to look again but to focus on Felicia’s face. She nodded.

“Of course,” she said, swallowing and Peter couldn’t help feeling she was being insincere.

“They’re back!” someone called from the room down the hall and putting away her camera, trailing Peter behind her, Felicia jogged back. Peter stopped in the doorway. Johnny landed on the window, flaming off and reaching out an arm to Spider-Woman who dropped unsteadily next to him.

“What happened?” Sue asked, pulling Johnny into a hug. Spider-Woman shook her head, shoulders dropping dejectedly. An oppressive silence fell over the room, then Reed turned and walked out, the doors hissing closed behind him. Johnny scrubbed a hand across his face and Spider-Woman was putting up with Felicia quietly fussing over her wounds.

Peter sat heavily on the last chair actually standing upright. He stretched his leg out, ignoring the twinge of pain and wondered how he was going to get home. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit running a marathon is a bit different to a sprint, isn't it? Haha, eternal thanks to my nougat prince and bubblegum princess for keeping me going!


	3. Chapter 3

“Can you believe this?” Felicia hurled herself bodily across her own bed, almost whacking herself in the face with the newspaper she was trying to show her girlfriend. “That’s _my_ photo as well. I’m so _angry._ ”

Mary Jane plucked the paper from Felicia’s hands and straightened it across her knees. She read: “’Sparks Fly Between Human Torch and Spider-Woman’, oh dear,” she trailed off. Felicia screamed into the bed covers. The photo they’d chosen at the _Daily Bugle_ was the last one she’d taken. Spider-Woman and Johnny Storm were leaning side-by-side against each other, an arm thrown around the other’s shoulder, laughing. Johnny’s head was thrown back with glee, Spider-Woman’s chin tilted down in a private joke.

Felicia rolled her head to the side, watching Mary Jane speed-read the rest of the article, crease in her brow deepening as she went. She recognised that her anger stemmed more from jealousy than anything else including poor reporting. Black Cat had been out of the picture long enough that the media at large had seemingly forgotten about her and her controversial relationship with Spider-Woman. “Bet they wouldn’t be quite so excitable in their attempts to match you up if they knew you were a minor,” Felicia said bitterly. In truth, Johnny was only in the grade above them and eighteen and it never seemed to be a problem with Peter, but a year or two in the public’s eyes could make all the difference.

“I’m seventeen in three weeks,” said Mary Jane indignantly.

“That’s still a minor.”

Mary Jane made a noise somewhere between a huff and a hum, but definitely counted as begrudging agreement.

“ _And_ ,” Felicia started up again, not done with this by a long shot, “they clearly couldn’t be bothered doing a single fact-check because the article has _you_ listed as discovering the symbiote on Battleworld, which is stupid because you weren’t there.”

Felicia paused, waiting for confirmation of this blindingly obvious truth that didn’t come. She rolled onto her stomach, hands clenching in the bed covers. Swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat, she said, “were you?”

Mary Jane was a living statue at the head of the bed. Her eyes were focused down, mouth pinched like there was a particularly bad taste in her mouth. If there was, Felicia could sympathise because she was sure she could taste it too.

“Felicia,” Mary Jane said in a tone of voice that was instantly familiar as the voice employed when someone was about to justify doing something very wrong. “I was trying to protect you.”

It sounded weak and Felicia gritted her teeth. As they both fumbled for something to say, Felicia’s white hot temper suddenly crystallising into something sharp in her chest, she put the details together in her head.

“So, basketball camp?” she forced out, barely holding the rest back at her teeth.

“It was around the time of the abduction,” and Mary Jane said _abduction_ like she was making a specific point, but it bounced dully off Felicia, “but I wasn’t at it. Felicia, I’m so—”

“A homicidal alien,” Felicia cut in, voice ice and steel, “kidnapped you and a bunch of other superheroes, took you to a hostile planet, where _god knows what happened because you never mentioned it before_ and you brought home some kind of creepy alien life form and you’re going to say you’re _sorry_?”

Felicia looked up at Mary Jane then, but her girlfriend had set her face in stone in the unemotional way she could do around others until she got home and the real feelings came tumbling out. It stung, suddenly, that right now Felicia was one of those _others_.

“I didn’t tell you,” Mary Jane said, coolly and unable to disguise the tremor in her voice, “that was wrong. I messed up, I’m sorry. But you know how you’ve been since the fight with Electro.”

“How have I been?” Felicia snapped, pushing herself up to sit up, anger bubbling to the surface. Mary Jane’s eyes flicked suddenly across the room and Felicia didn’t need to look to know she had glanced at the Black Cat costume hanging limp from disuse on the back of her bedroom door. It was hard to miss the patch of swathe of burnt fabric across the side. Or the two gloves, mechanical grappling hooks hanging out, utterly broken.

“You’ve been so desperate to get back out there that you’ve been treating this like a game!” Mary Jane pushed back, typically unable to keep her own temper in check when voices started getting raised. Felicia knew better, but suddenly she was itching for a fight.

“Oh is _that_ what I’ve been doing, sitting here at night worrying about you while you’ve been playing pretend with the Fantastic Four.”

“Don’t,” Mary Jane stopped suddenly, but the single word dripped with venom.

“Don’t _what_?” Felicia retorted. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Felicia threw herself off the bed, pulling on her nearest shoes and grabbing her wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” Mary Jane asked, concerned, sliding towards the edge of the bed. Felicia’s bed. Felicia’s hand tightened on the door knob.

“For a walk,” she paused, “don’t worry, it’s not like I can do anything _interesting_ anyway,” she finished, slamming the door closed behind her, knowing the black hoodie would bounce against the wood for Mary Jane’s sole attention.

✽

Angry and aimless wandering left Felicia five blocks south and three blocks west and from there it was only a short trip north along 11th through Hell’s Kitchen to the old antique store. Felicia lingered on the road opposite, but even from here she could tell it was abandoned. Old newspaper had fallen down from side of the windows where the tape had gone dry and inside, the shelves and front desk were still there, empty save for a thick layer of dust.

Felicia bit her thumbnail staring through the front door, remembering the hours she’d spent faking retail duties out the front and the real work she’d done in the backroom. Something in her chest ached with the lost familiarity. While she was considering breaking in (already knowing that while the Tinkerer would be long gone, he’d have left some nasty surprises for any unwanted visitors) to check for any of her old stuff, movement in the side alley caught her eye.

Frowning, she moved to the mouth of the alley without hesitation. Something shifted in the shadows near the back door.

“Hey!” Felicia called out and flexed her fingers. The action, in her old gloves would have activated retractable claws, sharp and thin enough at the tips to slice through glass. She missed them now. The shadow tried the handle; locked door rattling in the frame. “Get away from there!”

Felicia was already running, tight fists raised defensively around her face. Momentarily, she wondered if she’d mistaken the Tinkerer as an intruder, but was justified when the figure straightened and tensed in a fluid way her former partner never could have. As she swung out, a hand shot out of the dark, catching her punch and twisting her arm. She tripped over a foot and went sprawling with a yelp. Felicia caught herself full on her palms, bent her elbows and sprang heels over head to upright again.

“What the fuck was that?” she spat, pulling her fists back up for defence and dancing a pace backwards.

“That was _Kamar-Taj_ , Miss Hardy,” the figure stepped out in the fading dusk light and Felicia was almost disappointed she didn’t recognise him. _So much for a dramatic reveal_. The man before her was approximately her height, bald as a bowling ball and dressed in a sharp black suit, shirt and tie. He was ambiguously Asian with a strong accent that was unfamiliar to Felicia’s inexperienced ear.

“How is it you creeps always know my name before you even introduce yourselves?” Felicia kept her defences up despite the man’s non-hostile posture. She kept her peripheral eye on the entrance of the alley, knowing better than to cut off her escape route.

“I sincerely apologise, but it would be inappropriate to introduce myself at this point,” he spread his hands and inclined his head politely, “I am merely a messenger.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you want with the Tinkerer?”

He genuinely looked surprised before smoothing his face back into the emotionless mask from moments before. “The message is for _you_ , Miss Hardy.”

_It was a trap_ , Felicia’s heart clenched hard in her chest, but she was determined not to give herself away. She’d be lured down this alleyway by someone who knew her well enough to predict she’d return to her former haunts. By someone who knew exactly who she was and what she’d been up in the past year. The man held out a piece of card towards her, other hand raised in a show of peace. Tentatively, Felicia reached out and snatched the card from him. It was an invitation, printed in curling black ink on thick, cream card. With a ribbon and a few more flowers it could have been a wedding invitation.

_Dear Black Cat,_

_You are formally invited to join us for an Open Night at_

_The Wilson Fisk School for Young Vigilantes_

_9pm 20 th September 2014_

_At the Fisk Tower_

_Places are limited, come early and come prepared._

This was followed with a swooping cursive signature, in which Felicia could make out a W and an F, barely. Felicia frowned.

“But I’m not Black Cat,” she looked up midway through her sentence to find the alleyway empty and darkening rapidly with the setting sun, “anymore.”

✽

The third time Felicia looked up, Matt Murdock sighed and leant his chin on his palm and his elbow on the table, face in her direction. “What is it?” he asked and Felicia flushed. She felt like if he could see he’d be giving her a deadpan stare.

“W-What?” Felicia stuttered, fingers twitching across the keyboard in front of her.

“I can hear you doing this anticipatory little inhale,” he followed this up by overacting the same gasp back at her. Felicia pouted at her boss. Though she had no idea why she’d been hired over probably vastly more qualified and experienced applicants, Felicia was grateful for the secretary job she’d somehow landed. It didn’t pay better than Black Cat-ing—because crime did pay who knew—but she genuinely enjoyed the three afternoons a week she spent in the offices of Nelson & Murdock. And she learnt a lot yadda yadda – Mr Nelson brought cake every Friday afternoon and that was the real clincher.

“It’s nothing,” Felicia said quickly, returning to the e-mail she was halfway through composing. Then she inhaled and Murdock groaned.

“ _What is it?_ ”

“What do you, um, know about the Kingpin?” Felicia asked, still typing, totally unfocused on what she was writing. When she looked around at Murdock’s silence, he was scowling at her across the office.  “I saw something about him on the news,” she added speedily, “and you know, I thought, with your law stuff you might… know something.”

“By ‘law stuff’ you’re referring to the fact that I’m a skilled professional attorney specialising in criminal justice,” Murdock said dryly.

“Don’t quote your own wiki page,” Felicia shot back, grateful that her boss had a fairly high tolerance for her own special brand of bullshit. Murdock slipped into a pensive silence.

“Wilson Fisk,” Murdock began and Felicia shifted in her chair to direct her full attention to him, “is a man who despite connection beyond coincidence to several crimes has never been convicted of any felony. His iron grip on this city’s underworld is unshakable.”

“So,” Felicia drew the syllable out, “if he was running some sort of community program, that’d be unusual.”

“There is no good in that man,” Murdock said gravely, “his actions benefit only himself.”

Felicia absentmindedly drummed her fingers to the tempo of her heart slamming against her rib cage. Not that she had considered taking the offer up, but it had been worth investigating the possibility of at least attending this Open Night to say, metaphorically, what was up.

“Felicia,” Murdock said gently, snapping her out of her thoughts, “you’re a bright girl with a brighter future ahead of you. I don’t think you need to be told twice that the Kingpin is a man you should avoid at all costs.”

Just as the tension in the room reached a high point, the front door banged open and Foggy Nelson marched in with a box wider than his wingspan of donuts. Obliviously placing them on his own desk and throwing the lid open in invitation, he beamed around the room. “Hello then, what have I missed?”

Felicia glanced over at Murdock, whose face had relaxed into a smile at the entrance of his best friend and partner. “Not much. Felicia’s asking the hard questions, as usual.”

She made a face and wheeled her chair over to Nelson’s desk, examining the delicious loot he’d brought back to the office. Nelson waved his hand to indicate she was free to help herself and after careful consideration Felicia delicately picked up a pink iced donut between her forefinger and thumb and took a bite.

“You’ll like these,” Nelson told Murdock, transferring a donut to a paper napkin and delivering it to the other man’s desk, “they’re almost as good as the ones we used to get from that place on Brattle St near the river, remember?”

“I remember you leaving the trash from them all over our dorm room,” Murdock groused, but making a pleased noise regardless when he bit into the offered donut.

“Have you thought about Law?” Nelson rounded on Felicia, suddenly, obviously caught up in reminisce of his own college days.

“Um,” Felicia replied, swallowing her mouthful of pastry.

“She’s only a Junior, Foggy, lay off the poor girl,” Murdock defended her from across the room, leaning back in his chair.

Nelson ‘tsk’ed and shook his head, “now’s the time to start considering these things, Matt,” he reprimanded. “We’d be happy to write you some _excellent_ references.”

“ _Um_ ,” Felicia said again, wiping the crumbs off her fingers with a napkin, “I haven’t really thought about it, but thanks.”

Nelson practically beamed at her and moments later fell into a familiar bickering with Murdock. Felicia swivelled around to face her computer, brain buzzing. The Open Night was Saturday, two days away and if she was being entirely honest with herself she hadn’t really been thinking about her future beyond that let alone beyond the end of high school. That thought alone made her queasy. And thinking about school just reminded her that she’d been avoiding Mary Jane since Monday afternoon.

Which meant she hadn’t told Mary Jane about the invitation to attend some creepy vigilante school and that meant, hypocritically she was now the one keeping things from her girlfriend. And that’d only get worse if she _did_ attend the creepy vigilante school because there was no way Mary Jane would ever approve of that. Felicia’s head span with the dizzying force of the worries in her brain. _Surely this is too much for one teenage vigilante to bear_ ¸ she thought miserably.

✽

Felicia crouched on the roof opposite Fisk Tower. Her building was just over half as tall which gave her the benefit of being able to observe the whole front side of the skyscraper. A few of the sheer glass panels were dark, but plenty more gleamed from the pale fluorescent lighting inside. But it was impossible to tell which floors were occupied. Felicia fiddled with the fur around the edge of her hoodie. She had dressed for the occasion, including her gloves despite the broken internal rappelling mechanism. She was unarmed.

She sat and idly kicked her feet out from the building, bouncing them back against the concrete with a thump. Scrunched inside her pocket was the invitation.

There was the sound of a footstep behind her, deliberately loud to gain her attention. Felicia twisted and for a moment she was sure it was Spider-Woman come to collect her and talk her out of whatever foolishness she was considering. Instead it was Daredevil who melted out of the shadows, hollows in the eye sockets of his mask infinitely deep.

“Oh,” Felicia said and turned back to the front as Daredevil joined her on the edge. He was silent for a long moment, clearly considering what he was going to say. In the few interactions Felicia had had with him she had found him a man of few words and what he said was delivered with a gravelly voice and calmly serious tone. She didn’t how many people counted Daredevil among their friends.

“I don’t think you should do this,” he said, toeing the very edge of the building. Felicia snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Are you going to stop me?”

Daredevil shrugged, the action looking far too casual in the sleek red costume. “You haven’t done anything illegal. Yet.”

“But you think it’s a bad idea,” Felicia supplied hesitantly.

“I _know_ it’s a bad idea,” Daredevil corrected, “I _think_ you’re better than this.”

Felicia flushed from the unexpected compliment, but didn’t reply. She’d turned up here all but made up her mind, desperate to be convinced out of what she was objectively sure was a bad idea, yet somehow Daredevil’s words only made her options fuzzier.

“Not every teenage girl has to be a superhero,” he tried a different tack.

She thought on this. With her father in jail, a criminal connection (albeit currently severed) and a recent history of cat burglary, Felicia was already primed to blossom into a young supervillain as opposed to a hero. But she was dating Spider-Woman (despite recent hiccups) and, she liked to think anyway, she had a strong sense of justice that mostly guided her actions.

Felicia remembered suddenly Mr Nelson’s determination to guide her into law and for a moment she could visualise her entire life down that path. She shook her head slowly, watching that road crumble. _Maybe in an alternate universe_ , she thought ruefully.

“I do,” Felicia said, surprised and bolstered by the confidence in her voice. So she said it again. “ _I do_.”

Daredevil sighed as he stood, straightening out fluidly. He hesitated. “You have an ally in me,” he assured her, “no matter what.” With that he flipped off the edge of the roof, waving once before throwing himself into full swing away from her.

Felicia stood, stretching out her tired knees and took a moment to consider the momentous nature of her decision. She decided to go in through the front door, what with having an invitation and all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well, look what we have here. Expect Chapter 4 shortly. I really mean it this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, by a miracle, a double update, so make sure you didn't miss Chapter 3 before you scroll on!

_One week and two days ago_

Mary Jane’s head was pounding with the spider sense sirens blasting in her skull. What had started out as the usual buzz warning her as danger had exploded when the symbiote had been broken out. Without any forethought, Mary Jane had thrown herself out the window in pursuit of the attacker even as they’d zipped through the sky into the distance. It took her a moment to notice the Human Torch was by her side, but flying at a slower speed to keep pace with her.

She realised he was relying on her to chase down the villain as he’d all but completely disappeared.

Mary Jane landed on a roof, ears ringing with the pain from her spider sense. It seemed to her that danger was coming from every direction despite the absence of any threat on the horizon. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus, when suddenly everything stopped. The spider sense died away completely and the normal sounds of the city started filtering in again. Mary Jane gasped at the sudden change.

“They’re gone,” Johnny ventured, his statement phrased half like a question.

“I lost it,” Mary Jane’s own voice quavered, sounding a million miles away. She did a three-sixty, but there was truly nothing around. The strange behaviour of her spider sense still concerned her. Then she noticed the pain in her side and the long gash sluggishly bleeding.

“Crap,” she said at the same time Johnny noticed with a “shit!”

Probing the wound with her gloved fingers gently proved that it was not deep and already scabbing over.

“We better get back,” Johnny decided, offering his arms up to carry her back to the Baxter building. Mary Jane shook her head and fired a web line.

✽

_Today; Monday_

Mary Jane woke up early before anyone else in her family had even stirred, kitted up and got herself down to Ravencroft in record time. While technically further away from school in Queens Village and practically impossible to get to by Spider-Woma transportation methods, Ravencroft Institute was a small but highly specialised psychiatric institute. Despite the high fences, a view of the park was still possible from the higher floors and the warm, modern interior was at stark odds from the menacing façade.

Mary Jane lingered in the foyer, the red and blue of the Spider-Woman suit making her a target of the security’s intense attention, until her contact arrived to escort her up. Dr Kafka gestured Mary Jane over, looking exasperated but not unwelcoming.

“You didn’t have to come,” she said by way of greeting.

Mary Jane shrugged, “it’s the 11th.”

They rode the elevator up in silence, Dr Kafka activating the restricted area buttons with her key card. Since meeting three months ago, the psychiatrist seemed to have become totally accustomed to Spider-Woman’s appearance and demeanour during the fortnightly visits. She’d even stopped asking for the mask to come off.

Down the corridor, Dr Kafka unlocked a modest looking door with _Dillon, M._ and a long string of numbers indicating a patient number on a placard. Inside was a set of rooms not unlike a studio apartment with sparse and modern-looking furniture. Two doors led off on one side to the bathroom and bedroom, the second door with a large (unsanctioned) poster of Spider-Woman boldly posing in the middle. The main room consisted of a living area, kitchen and a dining table. Sitting at that table was the man Mary Jane had come to visit.

“Spider-Woman,” the patient breathed, eyes going wide, “you really came.”

“Hey Max,” Mary Jane grinned, shadow of her smile visible underneath the mask, “I came. Like clockwork.”

“Like clockwork,” Max agreed as they shook hands enthusiastically. Dr Kafka shook hands with him as well and the three of them sat. “Hey Spidey,” Max started up, fingers tapping on the table with excitement, barely able to sit still, “remember that time we fought a giant squid in the bay?”

“Uh, you better remind me of that one. You tell it so much better,” Mary Jane deflected, leaning in interestedly to hear his story. With a look of concentration, Max launched into his tale. Right now, Max Dillon appeared a polite, if a tad obsessive, middle-aged black man, but he was capable of harnessing huge amounts of electrical power in his body and releasing it to cause massive devastation. _Electro_ ’s powers were due to an industrial accident he refused to talk about and once unleashed were practically unstoppable, much to his own (and other’s) distress. He was a voluntary long-stay patient and since meeting Mary Jane made an effort to visit him every two weeks.

As it reached 8:30, Dr Kafka tapped Mary Jane on the shoulder and she said her farewells to Max, promising to return again.

Mary Jane turned to Dr Kafka as the psychiatrist walked her out. “How’s he doing? He seems better?” she asked optimistically. Dr Kafka smiled almost sadly.

“Well, we haven’t had any more power outages,” she said wryly, then sighed, “Max’s chronic schizophrenia went poorly treated for many years and coupled with his unique abilities makes him a particularly intense case. With the _right_ treatment and support, we can hope to achieve a sustainable baseline that’ll allow him to live freely in the community.”

She must have seen Mary Jane’s shoulders slump because she added, not unkindly, “it’s rarely a quick fix in mental health.”

“I know that,” Mary Jane said quickly, then stumbled over the rest of an excuse. Dr Kafka took pity on her.

“I won’t say that your visits don’t help, but how long do you expect to be able to keep this up? You’re a teenager, this isn’t your responsibility.”

“I’m not,” Mary Jane started fiercely, biting the rest of her words off. She slumped forwards with a heavy exhale before standing up straight and tall, hoping she to exude the kind of trustworthy confidence that Spider-Woman should. “He is my responsibility. I said I would protect him, and I will. For however long it takes.”

Dr Kafka rested a hand on Mary Jane’s shoulder, her expression one of pity. “Get to school, Spider-Woman.”

Mary Jane nodded. “See you on the 25th, Doc!” she called, waving over her shoulder as the gates buzzed her out of the psychiatric hospital.

✽

Just when Mary Jane thought her Monday morning gauntlet had been run, Felicia was waiting for her on the school steps. She braced herself.

“Hey,” she breathed, taking the steps two at a time, “Felicia, I am _so_ sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Felicia said quickly, “I should have listened to what you had to say instead of blowing up and leaving.”

Mary Jane rubbed a hand across her features, hoping to shift the stress wrinkles caused by fighting with her girlfriend. “I’m an idiot. I should have trusted you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Felicia jokingly punched Mary Jane in the arm, “but I get it. Kinda. You don’t have to carry the burden of all of New York’s problems on your own.”

Mary Jane met Felicia’s steady gaze and wondered if that was true. Certainly, she was a fool for trying to keep things from Felicia, who had more than proved she could handle her own. But it was still Mary Jane’s fault that Felicia had twice been dragged into near-death situations of Spider-Woman’s creation. The latest of which had ended her short-lived career as a superhero _and_ put Max away in a psychiatric facility.

“No more secrets?” Mary Jane ventured. Felicia reached out and took her hand, squeezing tightly with a small smile in lieu of a reply. “We okay?”

“We’re gonna be,” Felicia assured her, leaning in for a peck on the cheek.

“Good enough for me,” Mary Jane returned the gesture as the school bell rang.

✽

“I’m gonna gut you, you b—” the rest of his insult was silenced by a well-placed piece of webbing.

“Swear jar!” Mary Jane sing-song’d, following the momentum of her swing forwards to aim a swift kick to Sandman’s head. Just before her foot landed, he fell into sand pile, shifting out from underneath Spider-Woman and away across the pavement.

A smirking face formed in the stream of sand long enough to grit out, “left your vacuum cleaner at home this time.”

Mary Jane dodged a sand-fist the size of her head with a “woah!” as the rest of Sandman reformed already striking out with his other arm. She caught his wrist in both hands, hands sinking slightly into the grainy texture of his flesh and used his own energy to flip him over her head. Sandman hit the wall with a pained noise.

“Thought I’d spare you the humiliation,” Mary Jane retorted, recalling their first tussle. Truly, holding a vacuum bag of sand that had technically constituted a person had been a bizarre experience. _Good thing it’d hadn’t been one of those fancy new bag-less ones._

Mary Jane shot out a line with each arm, latching on to the plug of a fire hydrant with the webbing and wrapping the ends twice around her fists. “I didn’t want to fight dirty, but,” she left her threat hanging.

Sandman raised his hands in surrender, shaking off the hit to the head, “alright, alright, ask your stupid questions.”

“Did you steal an alien from the Fantastic Four?” she demanded, tensing her arms to make sure they were seeing eye-to-eye on the importance of honesty. Mary Jane had seen Felicia’s photo – the grainy monster that had mostly matched up with Mary Jane’s hazy vision of the burglar – and Sandman wasn’t a fit, but it was better safe than sorry.

Sandman boggled at her. “I know better than to mess with extra-terrestrials and the F4. And before you ask, I don’t know who did either.”

“Well, have you _seen_ an alien?” 

“Dunno, what’s it look like?”

“Black and gooey with big white eyes,” Mary Jane struggled to come up with anything else. The symbiote took the form of its host so shape and size weren’t particularly defining features. It was a poor description and Sandman seemed to agree.

“You’re fucking nuts,” he answered decisively and Mary Jane tugged at the web lines. It didn’t take a lot of force for the lines to go taut and pull the plug out with a shocking loud pop. Water surged forwards, soaking Sandman instantly and dissolving him slowly into a wet mud.

He yelled wordlessly and then settled for silently glaring at Spider-Woman as he flailed into a soft pile. Behind them the sound of approaching sirens was reaching a crescendo signifying the timely arrival of the boys in blue. Mary Jane hoped they’d brought a bucket.

“Swear jar,” she said seriously before swinging away and making Sandman someone else’s mess.

✽

Gwen leant back into the bench as she sat and shared a tight smile with Mary Jane. The redhead had taken her lunch (three salad sandwiches and a banana, and her stomach was still rumbling, damn fast metabolism) out into the sunshine, determined to make the best of the end of summer before fall fell fast.

 “What’s with the long face, blondie?” Mary Jane asked, swallowing her final mouthful. Gwen paused, the way she often did when carefully considering an answer to what should not be a difficult question.

“You know that boy from London?” Gwen led, hesitantly.

“Henry.”

“Harry,” Gwen corrected, smile twitching at the corners of her lips. “He told me last night he’s coming to New York in January for college. Or university, whatever.”

Mary Jane took a moment to take in her closest friend. From her descriptions, her affair with the year older boy in London had been a whirlwind of emotion; both excitement from their first meeting and pain when they’d parted ways again. She hadn’t known they were still in contact.

“This _isn’t_ a good thing?” Mary Jane guessed, judging from the expression on her friend’s face. Gwen, uncharacteristically, sighed.

“It’s complicated.” She looked ready to launch into an explanation, when the nearby cafeteria burst open. Flash’s russet-blond stuck out, harried expression melting into pale shock at the sight of the two girls. He opened and closed his mouth several times before disappearing back inside. Mary Jane tracked his progress through the glass windows as he rushed out the cafeteria.

“That was weird,” Mary Jane commented. Gwen gave a huff of annoyance.

 “He and Peter have both been acting super strange lately.”

“Boys,” Mary Jane concluded with a roll of her shoulders even as Gwen didn’t look satisfied with her explanation. “You were saying?”

Gwen pinched her face together, and then shook her head. “Never mind, it’s silly.” She stood suddenly, sliding her bag back up her shoulder. “I gotta go.”

“Wait a minute!” Mary Jane cried out, hating to be left out on the gossip.

“I’ll tell you later!” Gwen promised. She pushed open the cafeteria door and merged into the mass of students inside. Mary Jane pouted, thoroughly unsatisfied.

✽

Watching yet another sophomore determined to be on the starting line-up fail to get the bright orange ball through the hoop with the lacy net attached also turned out to be deeply unsatisfying. The coach was somewhere down the other end of the court, running the actual team through a series of plays as Mary Jane babysat the newbies gathered around this hoop. It seemed like she hardly ever got to actually _play_ basketball anymore.

“Pick it up, Huang, back in line,” Mary Jane called, clapping her hands, “next, next, next!”

In reality, her mind was barely focused on the scene in front of her. She felt hazy and disconnected. Initially dismissing the feeling as fatigue from school restarting, Mary Jane had begun to wonder if the late nights and high tension had finally started to take a toll on her mental state. _No_ , Mary Jane realised, _she was just bored of watching the same ten girls bounce balls off the backboard._

The gym door creaked open a slice and a familiar face peeked through. Spotting Mary Jane, Felicia slid through the doors and made a beeline for her. Yelling half-hearted instructions to the trainees, Mary Jane jogged to meet her halfway.

“Weird monster attack on 37th and Madison,” Felicia said without preamble. Despite the hushed tones, Mary Jane still scouted around to check for eavesdroppers. “I think it’s your alien.”

_My alien_ , Mary Jane thought with a heavy heart. The casual phrase hit way too close to home. “Got it,” Mary Jane nodded, “make an excuse for me?”

“Basketball to the face?” Felicia smiled, a little maliciously, if Mary Jane didn’t know any better. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“No, don’t!” Mary Jane said quickly, then more empathetically, “that thing could be, scratch that, _is_ dangerous.”

Felicia rolled her eyes, fishing her camera out of her bag. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a long zoom.”

Realising this was a battle Mary Jane was going to lose, and knowing that halfway across town was a battle she really probably needed to win, she gave in and ducked out the side door of the gym, already preparing to strip down.

✽

Landing with both feet on solid ground, Mary Jane was faced with a doppelgänger dressed in black. She repressed a shudder at the sight of a figure shrouded in a dark full-body suit with the same spider pattern on her own chest splattered across his in white. It was uncanny enough that it took Mary Jane a moment to remember that she wasn’t looking at a man in a suit but a man inside a symbiote.

He was hunched over and shivering and at first Mary Jane thought maybe he was cold until she realised he was crying. He flinched as Mary Jane took a hesitant step forwards.

“Help me,” he said weakly, “please.”

If she was being honest with herself, this really wasn’t that the situation Mary Jane expected to be confronted with when she ran out of the school gymnasium. The street around them was wrecked, with one car already on its back like a sprawling beetle and the tarmac shredded in places. She was geared for a fight and facing a hostage situation instead. A very bizarre hostage situation at that. As she took a tentative shuffle towards him, he wavered back.

“Hey,” she said softly, “it’s okay, I’m Spider-Woman, I’m here to help.”

“Spider-Woman?” he replied. Mary Jane froze, sensing a sudden change in his demeanour. The figure straightened, growing in height til he was at least twice as tall as Mary Jane. With a shudder and growl, the symbiote’s shoulders rolled out wider, fists unclenching to reveal sharp, pointed fingers. The next time he spoke, his jaw seemed to unhinge revealing rows of thin razor teeth a red lolling tongue.

“Spider-Woman?” he demanded, again, voice like rocks grinding against each other. Mary Jane willed her legs to move. “I _hate_ Spider-Woman!”

She didn’t have time to react as the symbiote leapt for her with outstretched hands. _No_ , she realised, feeling the air whizz past her face as she barely moved out of the way of nasty looking set of claws, _her spider sense hadn’t gone off_. Even as she processed this thought, the symbiote grew another arm without warning, the limb bursting from his chest to pin Mary Jane to the ground. The helmet absorbed most of the hit, but she gasped for breath against the sudden pressure on her chest.

The symbiote was saying something that she couldn’t make out over the rushing blood in her ears. _I’m going to die_ ¸ she thought. Vividly, she remembered the feeling of the symbiote over her own skin. It had saved her life in space then, only to take it away now. _Ironic_ , she thought, then regretted it immediately in case it was her last thought.

All of a sudden, Mary Jane could breathe freely, the weight peeling off her torso. Seconds too late, she registered the grating screech of a car alarm. Felicia had leapt onto a car roof, camera flashing, and inadvertently set the alarm off.

“Hey, goo-face!” Felicia yelled; Mary Jane’s heart soaring at the fearlessness of her girlfriend. Then swooping with worry. The symbiote was reeling back, howling in pain and slapping his hands over where his host’s ears would be beneath the skin.

Realisation dawned on Mary Jane quickly, “more noise,” she called, voice rough and strung out. “More noise!” she yelled again and this time Felicia heard, and with a glance at Mary Jane, leapt nimbly to the next parked car, hitting it hard enough for the alarm to trigger. Mary Jane back-flipped, stumbling painfully into a minivan. Gritting her teeth, Mary Jane put her fist through a window, the siren blasting back out at her almost immediately.

Further down the street another alarm went off, followed by the sound of sirens from the same direction. With more of a whimper, than a scream, the symbiote bounded past Mary Jane, almost knocking her off her feet and up across a building.

“Holy shit,” Mary Jane muttered to herself, watching it go. She prepared herself to follow, but an hard exhale hit her with stunning pain in the ribs, she decided it was time for a tactical retreat and regroup. Turning on the spot, she sprinted in Felicia’s direction. Felicia turned and automatically opened her arms, as Mary Jane scooped her up and slung them both on a webline into the sky. “Time to go,” she told Felicia.

“Are you okay?” Felicia had one arm gripped around Mary Jane’s shoulders, the other pinning her camera to her chest. Her expression was grimly concerned.

“My boob hurts,” Mary Jane groused, pouting underneath the mask. Felicia rolled her eyes.

“You’re okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING and sticking around n stuff. It means a lot to me. Hopefully there won't be such a chasm of time between updates in future. Special thanks to the usual suspects.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter knew he was dreaming, because he was acutely aware that normally he wasn’t a redheaded girl who looked, on the whole, suspiciously like Mary Jane. He also knew he was dreaming because he was having an in-depth conversation with Reed Richards while in space.

“I feel fine,” he was saying, voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “I feel _better_ than fine.” In order to demonstrate just how fine he was feeling, Peter flipped backwards, feet twisting over his head and landed on his feet again. Peter felt himself grinning, but Reed looked unimpressed.

“I think we ought to be cautious at this juncture,” he said, lifting a small pink device to scan the black full body suit Peter was wearing, “we don’t know if this second skin is dangerous.”

“It healed me, though,” Peter countered, somehow finding the edge of his shirt and lifting it to reveal a pale flat expanse of skin with a fading pink scar. Reed frowned further and Peter smoothed his suit back into place.

“I have a suspicion that, in fact, this material has some form of sentience.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “It’s _alive?_ Like some kind of alien—”

Which was when Peter’s alarm clock blasted to life, throttling his dream suddenly with the harsh reality of day. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, mind fuzzy and hit the switch on his clock. Squinting, Peter pushed his glasses on; the fastest way he’d found of waking himself up.

There was a knock at the door and his uncle’s voice called “breakfast’s on the table, Pete”. It was the same thing Uncle Ben had said the morning after Peter’s parents had disappeared and the same thing he’d said in the almost decade since. His uncle’s voice filled the empty space in his chest, at least for a moment.

Breakfast was, indeed, on the table when Peter finally made his way downstairs, his aunt seated across from his own chair. She was a vision of serenity, reading the newspaper in the yellow morning light. Her thick white hair hung around her chin in soft waves, free of its customary bun.

“Good morning, Peter,” she smiled, switching her attention between the paper and Peter. “How did you sleep?”

Peter made a half-hearted reply as he ploughed into the rapidly cooling toast on his plate, hoping to convey the mediocrity of his rest with a shrug of his shoulders. Aunt May raised a quizzical eyebrow, but let the matter slide. Peter wondered if she had, in fact, written him off a typical teenage boy and therefore completely incapable of manners.

He swallowed and made an attempt. “How did you sleep, Aunt May?”

“Well, thank you,” she replied smoothly, smile brightening her features and she stood to boil the kettle again.

Peter demolished the rest of his breakfast in silence.

“When’s Johnny coming around again? It’s been a while,” Aunt May mused. Upon their first meeting, Johnny had charmed the pants of Peter’s aunt almost too efficiently. Peter shrugged.

“He’s pretty busy with the whole finishing up school thing. And the,” Peter made air quotes, crumbs flying, “’America’s favourite family’ thing.”

“Has he decided on a college yet?”

Peter shook his head.

“Ah well, he’s a bright boy,” Aunt May decided, her good opinion shining through, “he’ll make the right decision.”

Peter was saved a response indicating that, in fact, that may not be the case by the doorbell ringing. He chugged down a lukewarm cup of tea, having a good suspicion at who their morning visitor might be.

“Peter,” Aunt May called out from the front door, “that lovely Mary Jane from next door wants to know if you’re ready for school.”

It was by sheer coincidence only that he was.

✽

“Peter Parker, you just hit the jackpot!” Mary Jane exclaimed, looking far too upbeat for so early in the morning.

“Please tell me you’ve somehow acquired a car by legal or otherwise means,” Peter said, making a point to focus on the part of Mary Jane’s announcement he actually followed. He pulled the front door closed behind him, forcing Mary Jane to take a step back off the porch. She didn’t have to dance down the stairs though.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mary Jane beamed, “but you still get to catch the train with the prettiest girl from Midtown High.”

“Oh joy,” Peter replied dryly, trying to keep the smile from his face as he joked. “I’m warning you Mary Jane, if people start thinking we’re dating it’ll be on your head.”

“Mary Jane Watson-Parker does have a nice ring to it.” She forcibly linked arms with him as they made their way to the train station. Mary Jane had an infuriatingly casual way of invading people’s personal bubbles and an even more infuriating way of not actually making anyone that infuriated. Peter gave up on detaching her and focused on ignoring the strange electric tingle making its way up his arm instead. “We’ll have two children—”

“ _Please_ stop talking,” Peter begged, fearing he’d opened Pandora’s box.

✽

On the train, they pushed into a seat, sides pressing up against each other just to fit. Mary Jane sat tall, while Peter slouched in his seat, massaging away a growing headache at his temples.

“So,” Peter started, reaching for something to say to the suddenly unusually _un_ talkative Mary Jane, “musical auditions are coming up.”

Mary Jane grimaced, pressing her hands together. “I’m too busy for musical. With the workload and basketball and,” she paused then forced out, “family stuff.”

Peter had suspected for a while that Mary Jane’s father had disappeared. For one thing, the shouting from next door had dropped in frequency and he hadn’t seen the other man around in some time. However, it seemed to him that didn’t mean Mary Jane had been around more. Peter kept his mouth stuff but nodded in sympathy.

“Have you ever,” Mary Jane started, eyebrows creased in a frown, hands in the middle of a complicated gesture, “felt really, truly responsible for someone?”

Peter didn’t have to think to quip back, “I had a goldfish once.”

Mary Jane gave him a withering look and he laughed.

“No, really, though. His name was Mr Goldington. He lived for five years, which isn’t long for goldfish standards – I know, I looked it up – and maybe it’s because I didn’t get it at first.”

Peter paused as Mary Jane mouthed “ _Mr Goldington_?” at him with a look of disbelief and he shrugged.

“What I didn’t understand was Mr Goldington was completely dependent on me. If he’d been able to flop out of there and feed himself and wield a mop and give his bowl a good clean, he’d probably still be around. But when _I_ messed up a few times, well, that was the end of it.”

Mary Jane was staring at him wide-eyed, so Peter returned the look with an uneasy smile. “My uncle always said ‘with a great goldfish comes great responsibility’.”

The redhead tried to smile, but a jolt of the train stopping at a station had her rocking forwards and catching herself on his legs. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder and did his best to put two and two together. He snatched his hand back as soon as Mary Jane was sitting upright again.

“Are you worried about being basketball captain?” Peter asked tentatively. She pursed her lips and looked into the middle distance.

“Something like that.”

As they got closer to their destination, Mary Jane returned to the subject. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“If you don’t want your goldfish to die – be good enough,” Peter joked, “heck, be _great_ enough.”

✽

“—are you paying attention, Parker?” Felicia pressed her fists into her hips and glared down at him. Peter flushed, suddenly aware that he in fact had not been paying attention and now was definitely getting in trouble for it.

“Um,” he said eloquently and her brow creased further.  “Is this about the photos?”

It was an educated guess; Felicia had repeatedly brought up with him the difficulty she’d had trying to pawn off the photograph she’d taken on the day of the attack (just thinking about it gave Peter an icy, wet feeling down his spine) to any media outlets. It was too hard to make out anything real and the tabloids had plenty of murky photos already to run with their conspiracy theories. Even when she tried to give it away for free, Felicia continually faced rejection.

“Phot _o_ ,” Felicia emphasised the singular nature of her problem. Then she sighed and dropped her arms, the fight going out of her in a single breath. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

Peter struggled for a long, awkward moment with the right thing to say. Instead he came out with, “are you and Mary Jane fighting?”

Felicia widened her eyes, then scowled. It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

“It’s just,” Peter desperately started shovelling, hoping somehow to fill in his shallow grave, “she keeps walking to school with me and I think she’s worri—I think she misses you.”

Felicia’s face twisted unhappily. “MJ and I are fine,” she said, icily. “Maybe deal with your own shit before butting in on other people’s.”

She gestured at the page beneath him, and then waved him off entirely, weaving through students back to her seat at the front of the room for class to begin. Peter looked down at his workbook, surprising himself with the amount of doodles that had seemingly come out of his pen. In amongst the scribbled words and poorly detailed goldfish was a face. A tongue lolled out of a gaping mouth, and two black holes drilled into the page where the eyes should have been.

Heart pounding suddenly, Peter covered the drawing with his hand.

✽

“What?” Peter looked up again, responding to—something, he was sure. Glancing around, Peter quickly realised he was in his boyfriend’s bedroom in the Baxter building. This was odd because he was sure he’d been on his way home to Queens.

“It’s not like lots of people don’t take gap years,” Johnny said defensively. “It’ll just be for the year. I could get a job or something.”

Peter took in the overly casual way Johnny was slouching back across the bed, inspecting something very interesting on the back wall. He smiled to himself. Johnny was so transparent sometimes.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Peter pushed away his laptop so he could shuffle closer to his boyfriend, pressing his thigh against Johnny’s vastly warmer leg.

Johnny nodded and shrugged at the same time. “It’s only a year,” he repeated. Peter reached out and tangled his fingers with Johnny’s, forcing the other boy into some serious eye contact. He thought about what he wanted to see.

“If you haven’t made your mind up yet, I don’t think you should force yourself into a decision you’re going to regret later.”

Johnny smiled for the first time in the conversation. “Thanks, babe. Now I just have to tell _Sue._ ”

Peter pulled a face at the tacky pet name and the thought of Johnny’s difficult conversation ahead and yawned suddenly, jaws so wide he was sure he heard a crack.

“You alright?” Johnny asked, using a hand to push Peter’s wayward fringe out of his eyes.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve been sleeping well recently.” Peter had barely finished speaking when Johnny tugged him up the bed to flop across Johnny’s torso. They got comfortable, Peter resting against his boyfriend’s sternum and Johnny’s arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Peter let his eyes drift close, tapping out the rhythm in his head against Johnny’s ribs. “I can’t imagine you with a job; Sue and Reed have done too good of a job of spoiling you.”

“Hey!” Johnny’s chest jumped with the exclamation, making Peter smile. “I could totally have a job. I’m already a _superhero_ , that’s practically a job.”

“You don’t get paid for that,” Peter pointed out.

“I know, it’s a serious problem,” Johnny muttered. He paused, then tapped Peter on the arm excitedly, full of ideas suddenly. “I could be a firefighter! That’d be ironic.”

Peter snorted with laughter, “hilarious.”

He drifted off to sleep, the sound of Johnny’s voice lulling him away.

✽

The front door swung home with a satisfying click and between that and the jingle of a carabiner of keys, Peter knew his uncle was home.

“Hi Uncle Ben,” he called out from his sprawl on the lounge and hit mute on the television remote.

“Where are ya, Petey?” came the echoed response from the hallway. Peter replied with his present location in living room and his uncle appeared around the corner in shorts and a sweaty white t-shirt. He tapped his nephew’s legs out of the way, forcing Peter to sit up, and sat down with a heavy exhale.

“How was the jog?” Peter enquired.

“Ooft, I’m getting old, Peter,” Uncle Ben smiled tiredly, “but I’ve gotta keep with your Aunt somehow.”

Peter wrinkled his nose at the cheeky twinkle in his uncle’s eye. “If that means what I think it means, _gross_.” Uncle Ben laughed, the whole couch shaking with his chuckle. He reached over and ruffled Peter’s hair, affectionately, knocking his glasses askew in a brief moment of blindness.

“Now _that_ is bad news,” Uncle Ben said, gesturing at the television with his chin. On the screen, Peter’s show had finished and the news update was playing silently. A newscaster formed their lips perfectly around the unheard words and the thumbnail in the corner expanded to show Spider-Woman leaping around a monstrous caricature of herself; the Fantastic Four’s alien decked out as a poor mockery of Spider-Woman. It grabbed her and Peter’s heart pounded unevenly, even though he already knew from seeing the same story earlier that she survived.

“I hope they stop it soon,” Peter’s mouth formed the words before his brain caught up.

“Get your superhero boyfriend on that one,” Uncle Ben joked and Peter shot him a weak smile. “I hope they help him soon.”

“What do you mean?” Peter watched Uncle Ben’s face, but the older man didn’t look up from the screen as they showed a statement from the Avengers, who (in a typical Avengers move) were all out of town on some other important Nazi-punching business. Uncle Ben took a moment to think before speaking (a trait Peter was suddenly aware he’d picked up on at some point in his short life), then started with a drawn out “we-ell”.

“I mean, whoever that poor soul is, stuck in there,” Uncle Ben looked away from the screen to meet Peter’s eyes when the segment ended and the stock market flashed up instead. “You said it was a parasite, right? Living off someone trapped inside,” he made a clucking sound with his tongue, “that’s no way to live.”

Peter swallowed around a hard lump in his throat. His stomach churned unpleasantly as all his possible responses tried up in his mouth. Uncle Ben didn’t seem to notice. He seemed lost in memories.

“When you were little,” he started, “you used to have terrible nightmares. You’d draw a horrible creature just like that monster. It had this ridiculous tongue that you said could suck out souls. Grew right out of that one when you got a bit older. It’s funny what kids will dream up.”

Peter wasn’t sure he thought it was funny, but didn’t say anything. Uncle Ben raised his arm and Peter shuffled across the couch, allowing himself to be embraced warmly. They sat in silence.

“You should come for a jog next time, good to get you out of your brain for once,” Uncle Ben said eventually, tapping Peter twice on the arm to indicate the hug was finished and they could separate again.

✽

The house was still and even with the bedroom windows wide open, no noise filtered through the curtains. Peter lay in bed, wide awake. He’d been so tired, physically and mentally. Emotionally, even. But when he’d finally turned out the lights, his mind had started right back up again. Now he was excruciatingly aware of the stillness. The quiet of the house heightened the noise in his head. His brain buzzed.

Though nothing in the room moved, Peter felt a shift in the atmosphere. A tightening of pressure on his chest. Stiffly, Peter pushed himself up on his elbows, sliding a few inches up the bed.

There was something in his room.

The only sound Peter could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, but the shadows on the far wall moved in a slick slide when nothing else did. His breath hissed through his mouth in an elongated rattle. _Show yourself_ , he thought and then it did.

A solid lump of darkness swelled up at the end of his bed. It seemed wary to come any closer, as if the bed itself was a forbidden area. Part of the living oil slick peeled itself away to form a sphere-like head on top and two white vertical streaks condensed into the shape of eyes on the front of it. There was a pop, silent, but tangible as two arms broke free of its torso and traced a white spider symbol on its chest and diagonal lines across its shoulders.

It hovered in unreality in the middle of Peter’s bedroom.

“You’re not real,” Peter whispered, his voice barely making any noise at all, “you’re just a nightmare.”

The symbiote cocked its head, listening patiently.

“You’re just a nightmare,” Peter repeated. He pulled himself to sit up, folding his legs into his chest and his arms around his knees. “This is just a nightmare.”

A long moment passed without either of them moving from that spot. Outside, a car rolled along the street, casting no light into the dimness of the room. Next door, a door opened and shut again, a voice spoke just out of hearing range.

Peter closed his eyes and pressed his face into his knees.

“Go away,” he said. When he looked up again, minutes later, the apparition was gone. The sound of traffic outside and Uncle Ben snoring one room over returned. The streetlight flickered outside and Peter’s phone buzzed on the bedside table as he received a message.

Peter rubbed his eyes, yawned and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this today, I can only say thank you.


End file.
